


Masses of Men

by gardnerhill



Category: due South
Genre: Episode: s02e14 All the Queen's Horses, Gangbang, M/M, Mounties (RCMP), Multi, Multiple Partners, Orgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: The Musical Ride knows how to thank Vecchio for saving them.





	

Only when the FBI finally promised to send their horses on after the train was once more on course did the Mounties of the Musical Ride agree to proceed on to Chicago and their hotel rooms, doubling up for the night.

 

"You're sure I'm welcome, Benny?" Ray asked worriedly as he walked with Fraser down the hall of the Marriott.  He was still jittery and hyped on adrenaline after the events of the day, the knowledge that only he and Benny had stood between Chicago and destruction.  To be frank, he didn't really want to go to a party, quiet and stodgy though such an event must be if someone like Fraser was hosting it.  He wanted to fuck the excitement out of him, have the jitters fucked out of him by Benny.

 

"Constable Cooper did specifically ask for you, Ray," Benny replied, as calm and cool as before.  "It's a select group of the riders tonight; they wanted to meet you."

 

Ray preened a bit, flush with his own heroism.  He couldn't wait to see tomorrow's headlines.

 

They knocked at the room Cooper was sharing with Turnbull and were admitted.  It was a typical two-king room, nice enough, and at the moment full of men.  They'd doffed the hats and red serge and now chatted quietly among themselves.  Ray could see Frobisher there, as well as many of the other men he'd admired from that day's dramatic charge to stop Randall Bolt and rescue Inspector Thatcher — perhaps half of the riders were present.  Thatcher herself was notably absent, and according to Fraser Dief was home sulking in the apartment because he hadn't been invited.  Some quiet music played in the background, but there didn't seem to be any party food out, no beer or soft drinks, not even cheese and crackers.  Very odd.

 

But in a very few minutes Ray was mingling and chatting, enjoying the rapport between these men.  They'd looked so dashing and masculine on their horses, riding to Meg's rescue like an old cavalry movie.  All of them were beautiful: the young and virile ones like Turnbull, older sadder ones like Benny, two middle-aged men with experience lining their faces, even hale and hearty old war-horse Frobisher.  Their bodies were fit and strong, strapping in their uniform shirts and trousers.

 

The lights dimmed; the subliminal sounds of the room grew more distinct; the music became a little more distinct.  Ray stayed with Benny even as Mounties came and went near him, speaking softly, welcoming him and thanking him for his part in their rescue.

 

Benny's hand on his ass made him jump.  "Jeez, Benny, not in front of the Mounties!" he hissed in his lover's ear.

 

"Why not, Ray?"  Fraser's eyes were blue laser light.  "I'm a Mountie.Turnbull's a Mountie.  We're all Mounties."  And with that he kissed Ray on the mouth, long and slow.

 

Panicked, Ray's eyes swiveled to gauge the reaction of the room. The Mounties were looking at them. But not with shock, disgust, hatred, or even indifference.  Fire burned in their eyes, and desire.  The room was hotter.  Their bodies burned.  Turnbull beamed at the two of themand waved from across the room.  Frobisher, his arm slung around a fortyish man, nodded and continued talking.

 

Oh _Dio mio_ , were _all_ Mounties—?

 

No.  Benny had said "a select group of the riders."  Selected for...

 

Oh sweet Joseph, Mary and Jesus.

 

Ray ended the kiss, gently removing Benny's tongue from between his lips.  He felt all their eyes on him, their loins heating the room around him and Benny.  His own eyes ignited.  Let them see what Benny got every night, let them envy the pair of them!

 

Ray pulled Benny's head back in for another kiss — his long, slow, delicious Italian special.  He felt the hot breath of their sighs on him, before he felt Benny's arms surround him and hold him tight.

 

He was hot.  He was hard.  Oh God, he needed to fuck, he needed to get fucked, he needed Benny, his Mountie —

 

He jumped as many hands were laid on him.  Many hands.  They caressed his shoulders and arms, stroked his back, brushed his cheeks, felt his ribs and loins, boldly gripped his buttocks and thighs.

 

"Benny—" he gave a strangled gasp.

 

"It's all right, Ray," Benny whispered wetly in his ear, tonguing it softly between sentences.  "It's all right.  It's our way.  They're welcoming you.  Accepting you.  You're one of us.  You became one of us today.  Let this happen, Ray.  Let this happen."  Fraser pulled away from Ray, and other hands came in to fill the breach.

 

An initiation.  Male cults, fraternity hazings, homoerotic undertones in all-male ceremonies —

 

There was nothing undertoned about this group of Mounties or the way they now touched Ray Vecchio.

 

Ray was stripped out of his clothes by many helpful hands who stroked the bare skin beneath the fine garments.  To his joy, they treated his precious clothing as carefully as he himself did, folding shirts and hanging trousers to keep the crease.  Turnbull knelt to unlace his shoes and eased them off one by one, carrying them to the hotel room's closet; Ray wouldn’t be surprised if the Constable shined them on the way.  Benny himself drew down Ray's black silk boxers, his broad shoulders Ray's brace as he stepped out of them a leg at a time.  Benny kissed the lifting cock at eye level, and Ray exhaled in rapture, wrapped in flames.  They were being watched.  Benny stood and kissed Ray’s cheek, then bore the last garment off to the closet — Ray’s clothes the only thing in a closet in this room, quite clearly.

 

The Mounties stood around Vecchio's naked body, still clothed in their shirts and trousers and braces, and continued to stroke and caress Ray. Renfield Turnbull stood before him once again, smiling, then leaned in and gavehim a quick peck on the cheek.  Buck Frobisher caressed his ass. Cooper ran a hand over his belly, just above his hard cock.  Other hands and mouths reached in to touch him everywhere.

 

Ray Vecchio moved through the crowd as if he was being passed aroundthe room, caressed and kissed by men who took hold of his hands and arms, stroked his buttocks, sighed in rapture at his neck.  He grew moist from their mouths all over his body, warm and flexible from their hot hands fondling his flesh.

 

It should have been humiliating, horrifying.  Ray should have been thinking gang-rape, prison chains, and sadistic masculine games, don't turn your back in the shower, don't drop the soap, thank you sir may I have another.  He felt...cherished.  Loved.  Desired.

 

"They like me," he whispered to Benny when Fraser resumed his rightful place at Ray's side.

 

"They love you," Benny whispered back.  "You saved them today.  They want to thank you."  Fraser's mouth covered his as Frobisher's strong hands kneaded Ray's ass; a dark-eyed and dark-faced young Mountie tasted Ray's shoulder; a crow-footed wolf-haired sergeant extended a hand, his fingers glistening with lube.  Seeing consent in Ray's eyes, the man set to his business.

 

"You're okay with this?” Ray squeaked as the application began; the lube was a bit chilly between his cheeks.

 

Fraser covered his face with kisses, and kisses speckled Ray's back from other men.  "I love you, Ray.  I will always love you."

 

Ray smiled over the sting in his eyes, and slid his palms under Benny's braces to slide them over the broad shoulders.  "I love you, Benny.  I need you.  I need it."  Strong weathered hands went into Ray's armpits, seeking the nerves.

 

"We all do," Fraser responded solemnly, unbuttoning his shirt.  Other Mounties could be seen removing their trousers, pulling off boots, slipping off their own braces and shirts.  "We're giving you our life tonight, and accepting yours."

 

Renfield grinned shyly, odd in such a magnificently naked specimen —he was younger and more powerfully built than Benny, and his uncut stallion's cock swayed in midair — and held up a plain black leather collar.  "If you'd like, Detective, I could put this on you."

 

It would maintain his erection and keep the pleasure going.  He'd been in Vice.  Ray grinned at the young Mountie, reached down with his hands and gently pulled away the two different male hands caressing his groin.  "Go ahead, Constable."

 

Smiling and eager, Renfield knelt on one knee before Vecchio's swollen prick as if genuflecting. There was a sound only of hot breathing, soft grunts from Turnbull and Vecchio, and the squeak of leather on damp flesh.  The soft snap quickened the breaths of the room's occupants.

 

Renfield remained on his knees before Ray's cockringed erection and round tight balls.  He looked up at Ray and parted his lips, asking with his eyes and mouth.  Desire stabbed Ray and he nodded.

 

Renfield turned toward Benny and opened his mouth.  Fraser laid an unwrapped condom on the younger man's tongue like a profane communion and Turnbull's lips closed on Fraser's finger and thumb as well as on the offering.  The circle of latex disappeared into Renfield's mouth and he turned back to Ray's groin.  Then his lips and tongue were on him, on him, pushing and stroking down his full length, slowly and fully going down on him with soft obscene wet sounds.

 

Ray's head fell back and his eyes closed and his mouth opened. A mouth not Benny's covered his and pressed home; another wet mouth gnawed his Adam's apple.  Buck's hands pushed and squeezed his buttocks in rhythm with Renfield's mouthing of his dick.  His arms and hands were lifted, fingers spread, sliding into hot wet mouths sucking on them, thumbs taken in other mouths.  A slick gloved hand slid into his crack between Frobisher’s maulings, thick slippery middle finger groping for his anus, groping, searching, probing...

 

Ray cried out in Cooper's mouth as Renfield pulled away from his neatly-sheathed cock, safely encased in latex, and grinned pridefully at his skill.  Then Renny's strong hands anchored in Ray's hips and his open mouth went back, and there was nothing slow and deliberate about Turnbull as he sucked Ray Vecchio's dick like a dock whore working for her ten dollars.

 

The gloved, slippery hand fucking his ass slid away.  A gloved, slippery cock nosed into the breach, dividing his ass.  Another set ofstrong hands anchored themselves on Ray's body for leverage, grippinghis ribs.  Strong, weather-beaten hands, the hands of a middle-aged man who spent a lot of time outdoors—

 

Ray jerked in passion as the middle-aged wolf behind him thrust and kept thrusting.

 

His ass was taken from behind, his dick consumed before him, his mouth plundered, and his fingers and thumbs fellated, his thighs stropped by naked, oozing cocks striping him with cum.  Ray couldn't move in any direction without bumping into the naked muscular flesh of a Mountie fucking him or being fucked by him.

 

Male sex in all its raunchy, earthy forms surrounded and debauched and knew him all at once and he was not unfaithful to Benny but caught up in a force of nature that roiled into a whirlwind of sensation, building, building—

 

He convulsed like lightning-strike, convulsed, balls straining to spew in Renfield.  He came but did not cum.  He needed more.

 

The mouth on his dick pulled away even as hot wet spurts hit Ray's shins.  Renfield grinned, displaying his own limp, wet shaft that hadspewed over Ray's shins.  The one behind Ray snapped deep between his buttocks hard, several times, shuddering.

 

The weight of men around Ray bore him down, down into the bed and on his side, and covered him.  More climbed up near his head.  The one still buried in Ray pulled out, gasping, and rolled away; another hot body rolled into the breach, boldly parted Ray's ass with his hands and fitted himself up the used channel for another round of fucking. Another wet open mouth swallowed his straining cock, and a straining cock was fed into his wet open mouth.  Tasted like latex, hot latex; smelled like not-Benny.  His hand was taken, wrapped around a hot slippery shaft, squeezed by two other hands and moved over the dick it encased; so was the other one.  Even his feet were known, taken and turned so that the sensitive arches closed over a single greased shaft that rode between them.

 

Hungry and savage, Ray sucked dick and was dicksucked, fucked, prick-beaten rosy by men smacking their swollen shafts against his exposed buttock and thigh and shoulder.  He felt the heat, the judders of cum behind the tight rubber on his tongue, spat out the used thing and gaped for another cock.  When he'd convulsed in coming, he pulled out his cock and slapped it against the face of the man who'd blown him, demanding a new one.

 

No two men had him twice; he fucked and was fucked by five at once.  He came, and he came, and still his cum was trapped, strapped behind the leather barrel-hoop he wore, screaming for release, one final act that would complete the savage rutting dance.

 

And Benny, Benny hadn't had him yet, Ray hadn't even seen him after that last kiss after he'd been made naked.  Ray had been fucked by Frobisher, had tried to grab Cooper's shoulder-beating dick with his mouth, had jerked off twin red-headed young rookies at once, and had been reamed by old and young alike.  But he couldn't even see Benny, Benny whom his heart cried for, longed for even as he snarled and humped under Constable Rogers' prostate pounding.

 

Eighteen of them.  Eighteen Mounties had had Ray Vecchio, and still he shook with need.  His heavy cock had ridden the mouths of six or seven men but not a single hungry ass.  His mouth had sucked the cum from the balls of seven men, eight, and yet yearned for his lover's mouth.  His whorish ass eagerly nibbled other men's rimming tongues, ate the succulent dicks of the men behind him, and spat the limp things out still seeking.  Benny, where had Benny gone?  He tried to look but naked men hemmed him in on the bed, clouded the air with sex and heat, and obscured the dim lighting of the room.

 

He shook with exhaustion in the drenched bed, shook off the men on and in him, gently nudged away from Turnbull licking the cum from his face. He heaved up onto his forearms, his ass leaking sweat and seed, his cock purple with need even behind the taut condom, to look for his lover.  He'd taken them all in like a slut and still his cock was ready to explode.  Was Benny disgusted with him?  Had he left to go home?

 

Strong hands took hold of his arms; Frobisher on one side, Turnbull onthe other.  They lifted the shaking Ray to a sitting position, then a standing one. The naked masses of men parted before him.

 

There was another bed in the room, another like this abused king-sized altar to Priapus.  This had also been stripped of its bedding and all but the bottom sheet.

 

 _Benny_.

 

Benny lay on the denuded platform, alone, crouched, head on his folded arms, ass raised in the air.  His eyes stared at Ray, at his lover's swollen and much-used cock, with raw hot hunger.  His mouth was parted.

 

He'd lain there, naked, waiting, for how long?  Hearing the wet obscene sounds of his fellow mounted policemen mounting his Ray, sucking him, making him wild; smelling sweat and musk and cum; seeing tangled muscular bodies crouched over Vecchio as they had him, building up Ray's pent-up cum till his rock-hard balls screamed in agony in their leather prison, begging for release, yearning for—

 

Ray's legs wouldn't hold him and his seconds held him upright.  Cooper blocked Ray's view of his Mountie and Ray's snarl was muffled by the warm dampness of the clean towel the constable applied to the man, sponging him clean for this last sweet copulation. Obscenely, Ray thought of Father Behan ritually washing his hands before consecrating the host. Ray's dick was so volatile that Cooper didn't dare touch it during the ritual groom's-bath.

 

By this time Ray was beyond sanity.  Frobisher and Turnbull all but walked Vecchio to the offering laid out for him.  Rogers looked up from the crouched and hungry man on the bed, his fingers glistening with the same slickness that now gleamed between Benny's buttocks.  Ray wanted to murder him for touching Benny, but couldn't hold himself upright on his own.  He was pointed straight toward the place where he needed to be.

 

Men, masses of men, now surrounded Benny's bed, hemming in the little tableau.  Buck and Renny eased Ray onto the bed in the right position, settling his hands into position on Benny's flesh.

 

Ray flowed over Benny, clamped to him, convulsing once. 

 

Benny arched and screamed in passion even as Ray's ass started pounding his buttocks apart, cock buried to the balls in him, leather ring and all.  He arched as Ray bit his shoulders and back and neck as he convulsed against him.  Ray's weight, his bursting balls, his violent consummation battered at the arched man's body. 

 

Other Mounties surrounded Fraser's bare body with their arms, lifting him and supporting him against Ray's fucking.  Sgt. Frobisher's hands wrapped firm around Fraser's flailing rock-hard dick, giving him a place to thrust.

 

Ray was beyond noticing.  He fucked Benny, fucked and fucked him, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he drove against the hot damp muscular back and ass that felt and tasted and smelled _right_.  Strong hands took hold of his ankles; others bore up Fraser and himself; one reached for his groin, seeking the leather binding —

 

Renfield's eyes widened to pure pupil as his hand at the base of Ray's cock was pushed so hard against Benny's ass that a thumb and finger joined Ray in penetrating Fraser.  Benny howled in lust at the multiple penetrations.  Ray humped again, and Turnbull's fingers fucked Fraser again.  He was so hot...

 

"The ring, son, the ring," Frobisher hissed, and Turnbull blinked and shook his head.  The ring.

 

One single snap.  The leather flew off. 

 

Ray arched back; Benny arched up. 

 

And a roomful of naked Mounties embraced both men at orgasm. 

 

Ray shook, sobbing helplessly as his body flailed and snapped into Fraser again and again; strong arms held him against Benny when his own would not.  Strong arms held Fraser in a strong arch even as he hung limp and shaking, semen still oozing from his spent cock.

 

Eighteen men sighed in fulfillment at that moment of communion.

 

Ray lay limp, quivering, on the bed.  He had no muscles left, nothing. When the warm tongues descended upon him he turned to expose more of himself to them as they cleaned his groin, his body, his lubed and much-fucked ass, his dangling spent cock.  Eyes closed, mouth parted and panting for oxygen, Ray Vecchio did not begrudge his attendants his mouth, and received several tongue-filled greetings during his grooming, softly and wetly kissing him.  From the soft sounds Benny made, they were cleaning him in the same way, mouthing him even as they washed him.

 

A cool sheet settled over him.  Good, a blanket would have been too much roughness now, a hair would irritate his skin.  Benny stirred beside him, too wiped to even come close enough to touch his lover. They had to settle for the comfort of their shared body warmth beneath the sheet, and did so.

 

***

 

Ray awoke in his own time, and blinked his eyes open to stare without much interest at Cooper and Turnbull forming a single somnolent lump under the covers of the other bed.  Frobisher lay across the bed's foot, and other blanket-covered lumps were scattered about the floor.The sight reminded him of the hotel room the morning after his bachelor party.

 

Vecchio stretched, and groaned like an overloaded pack-mule at the responses from his much-used and debauched body; he felt like a whore, ridden hard and put away wet.  It was a delicious experience for the sober, responsible head of a decent Catholic family like himself.

 

Warmth beside him tightened its embrace, and Ray was made aware of Fraser's wakefulness; the man had recovered enough to resume his favorite sleeping position, wrapped firmly around Vecchio.  Ray sighed, and relaxed back into Benny's arms to receive his good-morning kiss inthe center of his bald spot.  Weird, but Benny said he was fiercely attracted to that spot on Ray's head; in any case, it saved both ofthem from morning breath.  Bizarre, that he should feel closer and more loving toward Benny than ever, even while he carried an ache in his ass from being every man's party favor the night before.

 

"What the hell _was_ that?" Vecchio whispered.

 

Fraser's voice was just as quiet.  "A wedding."

 

Ray wasn't as stunned as he ought to feel, he reflected.  Last night's orgy had smoked with men's sex, but not once had Ray felt degraded or part of something filthy and wrong.  Parts of it had almost felt holy. He'd sensed the men's enjoyment of his flesh and his sexuality, happy to accept his part in the ceremony.  He'd felt the circle of love as they had physically bound him to his own man at the last.  "That was a Mountie wedding?"

 

"A wedding, for those of us who can never celebrate a traditional matrimony."

 

A _gay_ Mountie wedding.  "So all those guys passing me around like a joint at a Stones concert were my best men?"

 

Fraser, being Fraser, did not leap to the opportunity. "In a manner of speaking, Ray, they were our best men."

 

Our...  Oh.  Oh ho.  "They passed you around too?"  Oh, some of them must have come to Ray hot and fresh from having it up Benny, and vice versa...

 

"Much in the manner that you were taken, Ray, but with the situation reversed.  As I was to be the recipient during our..."  Fraser trailed for a moment, embracing Ray again, "our ceremony, I was copulated in every way save full anal penetration — that was saved for you."

 

So that's why the Mounties had fucked and sucked Ray six ways from Sunday, but he hadn't gone up a single ass until he was led to Benny's bed.  "Lot of fingers and tongues, hm?"  And lots of tight, round horsemen's asses.  He pictured Benny bent over Turnbull, driving it up the young buck, and only the recent nature of the previous night's activity kept him from getting hard again.

 

"Yes.  As you were fellated and penetrated, but not allowed to be penetrator."

 

Ray turned in Benny's arms to gaze at the rumpled, equally debauched man with rumpled hair and warm blue eyes.  "The ceremony must have worked.  I feel married to you now."

 

"That was the intention."  Fraser caressed Vecchio with his hands and adored him with his eyes.

 

"At the last..."   Ray trailed off.  He didn't have the words to express profundities about a sexual act.  "It was like they were...I dunno, like...our wedding band."

 

Fraser nodded and kissed Ray's face.  "That's what they were.  They did it themselves, because no one was able to obtain a walrus pelt."

 

"A what?"

 

"It's an Inuit tradition, I'm sure you wouldn't—"

 

"You're right."

 

"Understood."

 

Comfortable, lovely, to be having another peaceful squabble with Benny after such a night.

 

Ray gave Fraser a good, brisk no-nonsense kiss and dragged himself into a semi-sitting position, groaning. "Oh, I'm gonna be eating standing up for a while."

 

For the first time Fraser looked concerned.  "Your family—"

 

"Don't worry."  Ray grinned at his lover — now, by gay-Mountie standards and despite the lack of a walrus pelt, his husband.  He was a married man again.  "I won't even have to lie.  I'll tell Ma...it was something I pulled while I was with all those Mounties on the train."

 

Fraser looked poleaxed and proud at the same time.  "That's very clever, Ray!"  Having been raised by strict moralists, Fraser had absolutely no talent for non-truth-telling and fiercely admired the ability in Vecchio.

 

Ray staggered to his feet, careful not to step on Constable Rogers, and extended a hand to Fraser.  "Shower first, a fast one.  Clothes.  Then we go out and do what we have to do for our best men."

 

Fraser wobbled to his own feet, both naked men leaning against each other like convivial drunks.  "I know that small gifts are traditional for members of a wedding party, but what—"

 

"We're cops, Benny, all of us." Ray beamed at his husband and kissed him again, this one a full morning-breath-be-damned kiss on the mouth. "We order in coffee and donuts for everybody!"

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1995 and inspired by a stray comment on the DS slash discussion list **thecloset**. First appeared in the DS zine PURE MAPLE SYRUP 8, edited by Julie Bozza.


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